DC2 JLA vs America 2: Heroes or Traitors
by Esther-Channah
Summary: The Star Conqueror has a plan to take over the Earth and only the JLA stands against him!


To read parts 1, 3, and 4 please click the homepage link in my profile and go to JLA vs America.

Proofreaders: Kathy Brignole and Debbie Reed

Consultants: DCLady, Charlene Edwards, Komikbookvixen, Quinlan O'shea, and Charlie Wilkins

_Well they'll call you a hero or a traitor  
But you'll find out that, sooner or later,  
Nobody in this world is gonna do it for you  
Do what you gotta do_

_Pat Flynn, "Do what you gotta do"_

"Do What You Gotta Do" written by Pat Flynn. Performed by Garth Brooks on his _Sevens_ CD (Capitol, 1997)

* * *

DC2 JLA Roll Call: Superman, Batman, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Hawkman (Katar Hol), Flash (Barry Allen), Atom (Ray Palmer), Aquaman (not in this issue). 

**JLA versus America #2: Heroes or Traitors**

"This just feels… wrong," Superman whispered.

Batman put his finger to his lips. "I see it, Atom," he said into the comlink. "Disconnect the blue wire at the far left. Now… place the device I gave you into the free port." There was a tense moment, and then… "Excellent," Batman said. "Proceed to next target and advise when you're in position."

"How much longer are we to skulk in the shadows like thieves and cowards?" Hawkman's voice was a harsh rasp behind him. "We should go in, find Lord, and—"

"Have every Secret Service agent, armed forces member, and LEO ready to shoot us on sight for attempting to assassinate the president," Batman said shortly. "Lord and his people would know how to paint the League in that light. Now, Atom's just neutralized the security cameras. They'll be showing loop tapes of empty corridors once I activate the device he installed for me."

"Then why wait?"

Batman turned to face his companion. "The corridors are also patrolled. If the guards walk by and don't register on the video, then they'll know something's up. That's why I made certain to familiarize you with the path you'll need to take once you're inside. I'll be blanking out the cameras for a few moments only, along those specific routes. Move fast, but pay attention. Each of you knows your objective, and you know the route I've mapped out for you. Stick to it. And when one of us locates the target," out of the corner of his eye, he saw Superman wince at the designation, "contact the rest of the team."

A breeze stirred, and Batman pulled his cape around him. Watching him, Green Lantern was struck by how much the Caped Crusader's silhouette reminded him of a crouched gargoyle. But then, a gargoyle would be out of place on the roof of the White House. In the shadows, Batman seemed to blend in perfectly with the Georgian Neoclassical architecture. "Any word from the others?" he whispered.

Batman nodded. "Flash and Wonder Woman are in position. The Atom and Martian Manhunter are already inside."

"Then we move in…" Hal let his voice trail off

"When Atom turns off the automated security systems. At his current size, it's taking him longer to—" He broke off. "That's it, Atom. That panel eighteen inches above you—can you reach it?"

Green Lantern edged over to Superman. "Arthur's counting on us," he reminded the Kryptonian. "We _are_ doing the right thing."

Superman massaged the bridge of his nose, half-listening as Batman relayed instructions to the smallest member of the Justice League. "On one level I know it. But we're about to attack the _president_. What if we're wrong, and he's _not_ under the Star Conqueror's control?"

Hal's lips twitched. "Then we explain ourselves, apologize for the intrusion, and point out that if he has us arrested, then little old _Starro_ wins." He shrugged. "Then J'onn impersonates one of the feds and breaks us out of custody and we use Plan B," he added quickly.

The Man of Steel chuckled at that.

Batman beckoned them over. "Hawkman," he said, "You stay here." Seeing the Thanagarian bristle, he continued, "We need a rear guard. Maintain your position and wait for my signal." He nodded to the others. "Let's go."

* * *

Wonder Woman waited for the cameras to complete their sweep. Like Hawkman, her warrior spirit balked at stealth and subterfuge. Unlike her teammate, however, she could accept the need for it under the circumstances. 

She made her way carefully to the South Portico and stood silently. Two security guards walked past the building, oblivious to her presence. A moment later the door opened, and a sandy-haired man wearing dark glasses and an earpiece beckoned her inside.

"Are those spectacles truly necessary at this hour?" she asked.

Her companion nodded. "It would be too conspicuous were I to leave them off." He led her to the center of the lushly appointed parlor. "They call this place the Red Room," he added.

Red, it certainly was. From the paint on the walls, to the draperies, to the gold-patterned red twill satin upholstery, one color was prevalent. She gasped, as her eye fell upon a gold frame that housed a painting of Niagara Falls. The artist's skill and attention to detail in the landscape, complemented by the elegance of the frame was almost enough to take her breath away. "Incredible," she managed.

Abruptly, she turned away from the picture and steeled herself to the task before her. There was a time for aesthetic appreciation, and there was a time for action. And this… this was most assuredly the latter. Diana turned to the Secret Service agent. "Shall we, J'onn?" she asked.

The Martian Manhunter moved toward the door. "I'll go first," he said. "You are familiar with the layout of the floor?"

"Batman briefed me."

The lips of his human form twisted into a grim smile. "Then there's no need for me to review it with you. If you are in true danger, contact me via mental link." He opened a door in the west wall and checked to make sure that nobody was watching. "Come."

Wonder Woman followed him to the doorway. The Martian gestured to the room beyond. "The State Dining Room," he said. "Do you know where to go from here?"

She nodded.

"Go then." He thought for a moment. "Hermes guide you."

A surprised smile sprang to the Amazon warrior's face, as she nodded and moved on. J'onn waited a moment before leaving the room via the main doors.

* * *

The Flash vibrated easily into the family theatre on the first floor of the White House's East Wing. Once inside, he moved through the northeastern offices. Emerging in a lobby, he ran back to check the Garden Room and Visitor's Foyer before scanning the offices in the southeast corner of the building. He hadn't really expected to find anything there. It was just as unlikely that President Lord would be on the second floor at this time, but he still raced upstairs to check. As expected, at this hour of the night, the support staff offices were empty. 

_All clear above ground, J'onn_, he reported. _I'm heading downstairs._

In the split-second that it took the Martian Manhunter to acknowledge his message, Flash was already vibrating through the carpeted hardwood floor one story below.

He emerged inside a dark, tube-like bunker. Flash had no difficulty making out his surroundings thanks to the night-vision lenses provided by Batman. The room was furnished with a long conference table and ergonomic chairs. A quick scan of the area also revealed several television sets, telephones, and a state-of-the-art communications system. Other than himself, however, there were no people down here. And the powers of observation he'd spent years developing as a police scientist told him that nobody had been down here recently.

_PEOC's deserted, _he informed J'onn. _Tell Bruce we can scratch the East Wing_, _I'm coming up._

J'onn relayed the information to Batman. Lord and his forces weren't using the Presidential Emergency Operations Center after all.

* * *

On the ground floor of the main residence, Green Lantern reported that the freezers in the kitchen had been completely turned off. At first glance, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. The Secret Service agents that passed by him, however, moved stiffly and took scant notice of their surroundings. Hal wondered why they were bothering to patrol at all, if they were doing such a shoddy job of it. Unless… 

_J'onn. I don't think that all White House personnel are under the Star Conqueror's control yet. _He relayed his observations quickly. _If they were, there'd be no need for the show of security._

He felt the Martian's thoughts in his mind. _I concur. This may work to our advantage._

_One more thing, J'onn. _He thought about the deactivated freezers._ I believe that the parasites may be vulnerable to cold._

* * *

At any other time, the Martian Manhunter would have used his telepathic powers to attempt to detect President Lord. Given the Star Conqueror's psionic abilities, however, such a move would be unwise at this time. He'd established his mind-links with the JLA before they'd set foot on the grounds of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. There was still some risk: if the Conqueror suspected their presence, it would scan for psychic transmissions, and it would detect them. However, J'onn reflected, conventional communication was no less dangerous. Voices could be overheard, com-links monitored and jammed. There was no fail-safe way to relay information. Telepathy was still the more secure option, so long as he didn't use it in a way that would alert the enemy. 

All of this meant that he had to conduct his search physically, rather than psychically. There were sixteen rooms on the second floor—most of them bedrooms. It was possible that Lord was asleep in one of them, though J'onn doubted it. Still, that could be precisely what the Star Conqueror was banking on: setting up its base of operations in a part of the White House not typically associated with being a nerve center or high-security zone.

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom. It was empty. The Martian moved inside to check the adjoining dressing room.

"What are you doing in here?"

J'onn straightened, reminding himself that in human guise, with his expertly forged credentials, he should be able to give a good accounting of himself. He turned around slowly to face the two dark-suited Secret Servicemen.

"Let me see your ID," his interrogator demanded.

"It's in my pocket," J'onn said, slowly reaching for it.

The agent took it from him. "Marco Xavier," he read aloud. He passed the black leather wallet to his companion, who immediately began typing into a handheld electronic device. A moment later, he handed it to the first man.

The agent scanned the information and his jaw dropped. Instantly, he snapped to attention. "Sir, we didn't realize…" He corrected himself. "We were only doing our jobs, Sir. Is there any way we can assist you?"

J'onn smiled, wondering exactly what was in the service jacket that Batman had painstakingly prepared for him. "Understandable, Agent," he stated, extending his hand.

The serviceman returned the ID.

"I thought I heard someone moving about inside," J'onn elaborated, "and since the president isn't here, I moved to investigate. When I found this chamber empty, it occurred to me that the intruder might have taken cover in the dressing room."

The two men exchanged glances.

"I seem to have been mistaken," J'onn continued. He frowned. "Unless the intruder exited via the living room, instead."

The second agent swore, then apologized. "We can get a team up here—"

J'onn shook his head. "That would only alert the intruder that we're tracking him. You two, go outside," he pointed to the west sitting hall, "and check the southern sitting room. Then make your way back toward me, walking through the rooms. And don't forget about the balcony. Go."

The two men obeyed with alacrity. J'onn waited until they were far enough away before he turned his form incorporeal and dropped down into the state dining room on the first floor. At this point, the wisest course of action was to rendezvous with Batman in the West Wing.

* * *

There was something definitely wrong, Superman considered, when an ability that _should_ have allowed him both to survey the building's interior in seconds and to pinpoint the location of the president, could be effectively neutralized by a coat of lead paint a mere three mils thick. 

His super-hearing was still functioning well—too well. Either the Star Conqueror, Lord, or someone on his staff was paranoid enough to have engineered the ambient noises in a way that confused his senses. He could hear perfectly, but the steady droning, whizzing, and pinging of electrical appliances, climate control, and security interfaces, coupled with the breathing patterns and heart rates of well over two hundred people within the White House complex confounded and confused him. Hal was right: not everybody was under the Conqueror's control. Had they been, it would have been easier to filter out the synchronized heartbeats. But with so many of them pulsing, overlapping with each other, it was one more distraction added to the cacophony.

Clark Kent had interviewed Lord before—he knew his voice and the tread of his footfall—but there were too many other sounds blurring and overlapping it. He had to do this the old-fashioned way: room by room. Fortunately, on the third floor, there weren't many.

The bedrooms were clear, as were the music, game, and workout rooms. He had just checked the diet kitchen when he spied another door leading out to the greenhouse. He frowned. Four heartbeats pulsed steadily within its confines.

Superman drew a deep breath and pulled the door open.

"Superman!" A woman's voice, high-pitched and frightened, cried out. "Help meeeeeeee!"

Two men were restraining her while a third advanced. In his outstretched palm, a small starfish quivered.

"Keep back!" She shrieked. "Superman, save me!"

He was about to move toward her, but he froze. There was something wrong with the scenario before him. Something, aside from the three-against-one odds seemed off. Were there more people lying in wait? He listened intently. No, there were only four heartbeats… He went cold. …Four _steady, synchronous_ heartbeats. That 'victim's' physiological state was far too calm. Which meant…

Superman's eyes narrowed as he relayed a request to J'onn. He'd just realized something else, too:the Star Conqueror didn't seem to understand human reactions very well. At least it hadn't made the connection between the speed of a pulse and an emotional state. If _Starro_—his lips twitched at the absurd nickname—wasn't familiar with the civilization that it was trying to conquer, there had to be some way to turn that to the League's advantage. _Bruce would know_, he thought.

To the woman, he said, "I don't believe you need my help, actually. Everything seems to be well under control."

The woman's captors nonchalantly released her. She smiled. "Not quite everything," she said evenly. "_Not yet_."

With a speed that bordered on the metahuman, the third man lunged forward, and flung the Starro clone directly at the Man of Steel.

Reflexes took over, and Superman dodged, evading the psychic parasite by a hairsbreadth. The four humans advanced in an attack formation. Superman assumed a defensive posture. He didn't want to hurt these people. They weren't responsible for their actions. But they were going to keep coming until he was able to break the alien's hold, or otherwise incapacitate its thralls. And he couldn't allow himself to be captured…

A roof panel shattered and a winged form dove into sight. Without an instant's hesitation, Hawkman swung his mace forward and swatted the tiny star with enough force to send it crashing against the far wall. It slid to the floor, and twitched once. Superman watched as its extremities stiffened and curled, before the organism went limp. It did not move again.

He dodged a swing from one of the men, then reached out, and grabbed his assailant's arm. As he spun his captive about, he saw another small starfish clinging to the man's neck. _Hal said something about vulnerability to…_ he exhaled, blasting freezing cold breath directly on the alien parasite. Immediately, the star mottled and then went flaccid. It slid easily to the ground.

The man blinked. "S-Superman? Hawkman? What happened? The last thing I re—"

He broke off in alarm as Hawkman touched his mace, crackling with electricity, against the other three in the greenhouse, who were still in the Conqueror's thrall.

"The charge isn't high enough to kill," he snapped as the last man dropped. Almost at once, though, the three showed signs of coming to. The Thanagarian cursed. "The shock should have kept them incapacitated much longer… Can you remove the parasites?"

Superman nodded and bent down to examine the victims for the small extra-terrestrials. "Thanks for the help," he said, narrowing the focus of his breath so that he would only freeze the small area to which each parasite adhered.

Hawkman depowered his mace. "You're welcome."

* * *

_You're sure about this_? The Atom asked. 

He felt Batman's mental acquiescence.

_Based on the increase in security the closer I got to it, it's a good bet that Lord is in the Situation Room in the West Wing basement. However, we can't overlook the possibility that that's what we're meant to think, and we're being led into an elaborate trap. Furthermore, after Superman's incident in the greenhouse, the Star Conqueror knows we're here. We haven't entirely lost the element of surprise, but our best chance right now is to approach by ways that the enemy won't expect. At this moment, they're probably trying to get a fix on our activities, and gauge how long they have before we come charging in. We need to curtail their preparation time._

Atom understood. _That explains why you want me to be the beater. Once they spot me, they'll call it in and…_

_Exactly._

It was a great idea except… _Hold on. If Starro's a hive mind, then why would they need to call anything in? Wouldn't the Conqueror just relay the knowledge to its thralls?_

_Yes. __**If**__ it's one of the thralls that spots you. _

The Atom smiled. _Good thing the Conqueror was thoughtful enough to pin ID badges on all its people, then._

Batman's thoughts took on a cautionary note. _Be very sure. The starfish parasites might be small enough to overlook._

A surge of laughter accompanied Atom's response. _Not to me they won't be!_ He sobered.

Batman. The Secret Servicemen who just passed under my position are clean. I'm going for it.

The Caped Crusader's reply was terse. _Acknowledged. Now jamming all cell towers and communications satellites in the vicinity. _It wouldn't last more than a minute or two, Batman knew. There had been no time to create anything fancy. But then, they didn't need the interference to work for very long.

The Atom leaped from his perch above a light fixture, enlarging as he dropped. He landed heavily, staggered, and grunted with the exertion as he steadied.

The two servicemen spun about. "Freeze!" one ordered.

The costumed crime-fighter blinked. "Sorry, wrong guy," he quipped. "Freeze is still in Arkham." Then he bolted. Once around the corner, he shrank down and doubled back.

One agent took off after him. The other whipped out his cell phone. Punching in a number he exclaimed, "I've got a confirmed sighting of the Atom. We need backup, now!"

There was no acknowledgement. The agent slapped the phone. "Hello?"

The first Secret Serviceman returned. "I lost him," he said with disgust, oblivious to a small red-and-blue clad passenger, who had climbed into the cuff of his pants.

"My phone's dead," his companion snapped. "Call it in."

The agent attempted to do so. When his phone similarly failed to work, he let loose a loud string of profanity. "Now how the hell are we supposed to—"

"Take it easy, Ortega," his companion said. "I wonder if it's just the cell phones that are down or…" He opened the door of a nearby office. There was a telephone on the desk. He picked up the receiver and was rewarded by a dial tone. "Well, what do you know?" He whistled. Quickly he keyed in the correct extension. "This is Agent Twomey on the first floor. We've just spotted the Atom outside the Office of Homeland Security…"

Twomey failed, however, to spot the microscopic crime-fighter as he followed the phone wire toward the party on the other end of the conversation…

* * *

In the basement of the West Wing, in a soundproofed conference room, President Maxwell Lord sat surrounded by his aides and by National Security Council staff, his hands steepled before him. He appeared to be lost in thought. Appearances were deceiving. In fact, it had been a long time since any thought had intruded upon his mind. There was now no need for him to think. The Star Conqueror took care of that chore for him. 

When the phone rang in the Situation Room, shattering the eerie silence, Lord did not react. An NSC staff member picked it up and spoke briefly with the party on the other end. As he too was under the Conqueror's control, there was no need to waste words relaying the contents of the telephone call. The thirty-two other people in the room knew the full details as soon as Twomey phoned them in.

Without discussion, several guards rose to take up positions near the doors. Simultaneously, Lord and two of his aides moved into a small office equipped with an array of security monitors. Although it was certain that there was no need for the president to observe the proceedings, there was always the possibility that the he would pick up on a maneuver that the Star Conqueror would overlook due to its limited understanding of human behavior. Better by far to allow the human some limited independent thoughts, so long as they were sublimated in the Conqueror's service.

If the Conqueror were to confess to any emotional state, at the moment, it would have admitted to being perplexed. If the human called 'The Atom' was within the White House complex, surely the rest of the Justice League must be nearby. And yet, the cameras did not register their presence. The humans under its thrall did not observe them.

Lord peered closely at the security array, obeying his instructions to scan for any anomalous activity.

That was when every screen in the conference and intelligence management center that was the White House Situation Room suddenly went dark. An instant later, the lights followed suit.

When the emergency generators came online, the League was in the room.

"Excellent work, Atom," Wonder Woman proclaimed, her hand flying to the lasso at her hip.

"Thank Batman," the tiny crime-fighter said as he reassumed his full size. "He told me which wires to pull."

One of the guards squeezed off a shot, which the Amazon queen deflected with her bracelet. Around her, the League sprang into action.

"Remember," Batman gritted, "they're not responsible for their actions. We're going to have to hold back."

"Don't I know it," Green Lantern said grimly, as he created a green-tinted forcefield with his ring, corralling a half-dozen of the Conqueror's thralls.

Hawkman swung his mace defensively, in a wide arc, keeping their adversaries at bay. "Where's Lord?" he asked, scanning the room.

Atom, now six inches tall, leapt from the presidential seal mounted on the wall, tucked, rolled, and slammed into one of the NSC staffers. The man fell as though poleaxed. "Conference room on the left. He's not alone," he called.

_Hawkman!_ The Martian Manhunter's thought was intense enough to cause almost physical pain to the Thanagarian. _Be careful. The Star Conqueror feeds off of electricity. Do not allow it to make a meal of the energies in your mace._

_Acknowledged._ That, the winged warrior realized, explained why the humans in the greenhouse had revived so quickly.

The Flash watched as his companions battled Starro's cats-paws. The fight should have ended by now—would have ended by now—were it not for the League's need to handle their assailants with kid gloves. Any normal adversaries would have surrendered by now, but the Conqueror would not allow its thralls that luxury. Barry's eyes narrowed. Lord had to be freed. Once out of Starro's power, the president would be able to alert the country to the threat facing them. He would notify the other governments so that they could unite, as they would have done against Darkseid, given an opportunity. Also, he would call off the manhunt on the JLA, freeing the team to act without interference. _But not as long as Starro was in control._

He dashed into the conference room that Atom had indicated. "Mr. President," he exclaimed, coming to a standstill directly before Lord.

The expression on the politician's face was one of malevolent hatred, a hatred so virulent that Barry took an involuntary step backwards. "Forgive me, Mr. President," he said, cutting behind Lord, "but I think you'll thank me in a minute."

So saying, he slapped his hand on the small starfish he could now see clinging to the nape of the president's neck. He pulled, but the parasite would not come loose. Lord twisted, trying to shake free of the scarlet speedster's grip. _There's more than one way to skin a cat_, Flash thought, vibrating the molecules of his hand, in an attempt to shake the creature off.

In the midst of the battle, the Martian Manhunter suddenly froze in his tracks. Something about the president… _it couldn't be_, he thought. But from the psychic signature of Lord's thought patterns, J'onn J'onzz knew that his surmise was correct. _Flash,_ he thought desperately, _you must desist from your course of action. You don't know what you're doing!_

Barry blinked. _I'm freeing the President, what's it look like?_ The tiny alien's grip was loosening. Another second and…

_Not that way!_

The parasite came off in his hand. Flash flung it to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot-heel. _Worked fine from where I'm standing,_ he thought lightly.

_No…_ J'onn's voice was nearly a moan. _President Lord is a telepath. And the Star Conqueror was taking full advantage of that through its interface! By removing the creature in such a fashion you've caused a psychic backlash in the victim which—_

Lord let out a shriek, and fell to the ground.

That was when the main doors burst open, and an army of Secret Servicemen swarmed into the Situation room.

_Too many,_ Wonder Woman thought. _Manhunter, if we continue here, we will almost inevitably harm these people. We need to retreat and regroup._

_Understood._ J'onn acknowledged. The Martian Manhunter sighed inwardly. He did not enjoy using his telepathy to confound others. In this case, though, he could see the need.

The White House personnel did not realize that they had blanked out for one hundred fifty-four seconds. All that they registered was that in one moment there were eight costumed crime-fighters in the room. In the next, the League was gone.

And the president was in a coma.

* * *

_WNYX Morning News, 6:02_

"Good morning, New York. I'm Bethany Snow. Our top story this morning: the nation is in turmoil amid reports that the Justice League of America has staged an assassination attempt on President Maxwell Lord. The president remains comatose at this time. We go now to the White House for live coverage…

* * *

WGSN Gotham City Counterview, 12:25 

"So would somebody explain this to me? We've got a bunch of guys running around in costumes, claiming to uphold the law. But the truth is, they hold themselves up above the law. Why isn't the Justice League willing to face justice? For Gotham City Counterview, this is Jack Ryder—In. Your. Face."

* * *

_Statement by the Vice President in his address to the nation, 20:30_

"…And I can promise the American people," Vice President Jeb Stuart's careful enunciation did not completely obscure his folksy Virginia drawl, "that we will not rest until the individuals who perpetrated this heinous and reprehensible crime are made to answer for their actions. I am urging not only the law enforcement communities but also the self-styled 'heroes' of this land to spare no resource toward finding those responsible for this act, and to bring them to justice. We will make no distinction between the would-be assassins who committed these acts and those who harbor them. Meanwhile, the functions of our government continue without interruption.

"This is a dark day for our nation. We have seen our leader cut down mercilessly by those whom we have considered allies. We will not be duped again. We stand on guard against our enemies, whether they spring from the farthest reaches of space, the soil of a hostile land, or even from our own backyards. We will be vigilant. We will go forth. And we will avenge this catastrophe. Thank you, good night, and G-d bless America."

The camera remained focused on Stuart's stony expression, as a voiceover proclaimed, "you've been listening to Vice President James Ewell Brown Stuart, from the White House, in the wake of the assassination attempt on President Maxwell Lord this morning. After the break, WNYX will show you live footage from earlier today, which clearly depicts the Justice League of—"

A glowing green mallet, connected to a power ring by an extending arm, reared up and smashed the television set to smithereens.

"Hal," Bruce stated, "all that accomplished was—"

"On a par with what we accomplished earlier," the Emerald Crusader stated. "Absolutely nothing!" He slumped. "Or it made things even worse. Damn."

Wonder Woman sighed. "We've had finer hours," she admitted. "Still we—"

"If you were about to say," Flash interrupted, "'have to keep persevering', pardon my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I don't need to hear it." He pushed back his cowl. "I did this."

"You couldn't have known." Bruce was emphatic. "There was no data to suggest that anything of that nature could have happened."

"J'onn knew," Barry said. He nodded to the shape-shifter. "You tried to warn me. If I could have waited two or three extra seconds…"

The Martian Manhunter shook his head. "In a pitched battle, the tide can shift in two or three seconds. All things appear clearer in hindsight. You cannot… must not… blame yourself, Flash."

Barry shook his head. "I… don't." He said slowly. "I know that this isn't my… isn't our fault. Starro manipulated events so that the League was publicly discredited. We played into its hands." He took a deep breath.

"Right now," he continued, "we have to face reality. By accident or by design, the president is in a coma. We're not at fault, but we _are_ responsible. You heard Jack Ryder's rant on Counterview, this afternoon: we call ourselves the Justice League, but we decide for ourselves what constitutes 'justice'. We bring others to answer for their crimes, but when it comes to us…" He shrugged. "Well, Ryder's an idiot. But he was right about one thing: nobody is above the law."

"Barry," Superman asked, "what exactly are you saying?"

He replaced his cowl. "I'm saying that although the entire League has been outlawed, _I'm_ the one they caught on film attacking the President. I'm the one at the head of their list right now." He drew another deep breath. "And looking at the footage, who can blame them?"

He exhaled. "Here are the facts. Starro has to be stopped. The League is the only organization equipped to handle that. But in order for the League to be able to do its job, something has to distract the general public." Barry rose to his feet. "I volunteer. I'm turning myself in."

"What?" Atom cried.

"Flash, there's no need to sacrifice yourself for us!" Diana exclaimed.

Batman agreed. "If the Star Conqueror was controlling the top levels of government, who's to say it isn't also manipulating the police? If you give it the opportunity to slap one of its clones on _you_…"

Similar protests overlapped and drowned each other out. Only J'onn remained silent.

Barry Allen waited for the voices to die down. "You've got it wrong, guys," he said. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I have to take responsibility for my own actions. If I can't, then I have absolutely no business forcing others to do the same. I have a nephew whom I've tried to teach to do the right thing, no matter what everybody else does. Am I supposed to tell him that he can toss out that code if it becomes 'inconvenient'?"

He shook his head. "I'm not doing this for the League," he repeated. "I'm doing it for me. I'm doing it because it's _right_." He grinned then. "So why don't you all stop dreaming up clever arguments to talk me out of it, and start coming up with brilliant plans to stop the Star Conqueror?"

Sheepish smiles answered him. Barry headed for the access hatch that led up to the surface. With one hand on the portal rim he paused. "Bruce," he said seriously, "I'm not a complete idiot. I know what I'm about to do is risky. In a worst-case scenario, you…" His voice faltered for a moment. "You know something about raising a teenage boy," he continued firmly. "Boy. Wally's nearly a man, now. I guess, truthfully, he doesn't actually require much looking after, nowadays. But if he needs a friend… someone to talk to… or vent to… could you…?"

Batman placed a firm hand on the speedster's shoulder. "You don't have to ask, Barry," he stated. "You know that."

Flash nodded. "I know."

Then he pushed open the hatch and was gone.

* * *

She hadn't heard him come in. "Barry?" Iris's eyes grew wide. "Are you alright? With everything they're saying on the news… I know it's not true, of course, but how are you—" 

He put his finger to her lips. "I'm sorry, Iris," he said miserably. "I-I just wanted to see you again." He pulled her toward him and they embraced. "I just wanted you to know I love you," he said. "In case I never said it enough."

She closed her eyes as he leaned forward to kiss her. As they separated, she looked into his eyes, and what she saw made her afraid. "Barry Allen," she said nervously, "what are you going to do?"

He shook his head. "I ran to New York, but I couldn't find Wally. Tell him… tell him that the media is wrong. It didn't happen that way. And nobody's above the law."

"Barry?"

The scarlet cowl came up again. "Goodbye, Iris." He closed the door behind him.

She started forward. "Bar—!" She flung the door open. The hallway was empty.

* * *

He took a detour to don street clothes over his costume. The JLA was definitely _personae non grata_ at the moment. This way was safer. Or, to paraphrase one Pavel Chekov, he reflected with a smile, _I do not wish to be shot down on my way to my own funeral_. 

On the steps of the precinct, though, Barry hesitated. It wasn't too late. He could still rejoin the League and help them plan their next move. It was only a matter of time before they stopped the Star Conqueror and cleared their names… _and Lord would still be in a coma, due to his actions. _He'd meant well. He'd had the best of intentions. He knew of a certain road that was paved with such thoughts. And he had a fairly good idea of where that road led.

He pulled open one of the heavy double doors. Once inside, he quickly ducked into an empty corridor, shed his civilian attire, and pulled the cowl forward. Then he squared his shoulders, and, ignoring the gasps and stares from those around him, resolutely approached the reception desk.

* * *

"We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following news bulletin. Police have made an arrest in connection with the assassination attempt on President Maxwell Lord. At approximately 11:45 this evening, the Flash surrendered peacefully to Keystone police. He will be charged with attempted assignation and remanded to a DEO facility pending a formal indictment hearing." 

One news anchor turned to the other. "So, Connie," the man smiled, "the question's usually been 'how important does a person have to be before a murder can be termed an assassination.' But if you're the president of the United States…"

The woman smiled back. "…They call it 'assignation'." She turned to face the camera. "We'll have more on this story as it develops."

She turned back to her colleague. "The Flash has done a lot of good for this city, Sam. What do you think could have provoked him to turn like that?"

Sam frowned. "I really couldn't say, Connie. Also, I think we need to ask why he would turn himself in so soon after attacking the President."

"Well," Connie said, "I'm sure we'll get the answer to that—and many other questions, during the investigation and trial. And when we do, WKEY-TV will be on hand to report them."

Both news anchors smiled directly at the camera.

"In Keystone City, I'm Connie Kapowski."

"And I'm Sam Stoller. Thank you for wat—"

Jeb Stuart turned off the television set and picked up the telephone. "It's begun," he stated when the party on the other end picked up. "But before it can end, I believe I'm going to need that help you promised me earlier."

"Of course, Mr. Vice President," the voice on the other end intoned warmly. "When it's a case of national security, you have only to ask." The two men spoke a few moments longer before terminating the connection.

King Faraday returned the receiver to its cradle. Everything seemed to be falling into place rather neatly.

"The Justice League blundered its opening gambit," he stated aloud. "And they've lost one of their more valuable pieces." He smiled. "I believe that the endgame can only favor… Checkmate."


End file.
